


Maybe its not a conundrum.

by TheGoldenCity



Series: Spencer and Billy are dumb as fuck [2]
Category: Dude That's My Ghost!
Genre: Fantasizing, I'm wine drink and its 12am, M/M, Masturbation, Sepncer's 17 babes chill, ectofeature, jesus christ what is this?, one-sided
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 02:10:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20613227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoldenCity/pseuds/TheGoldenCity
Summary: A follow up of "It's really a conundrum." The moment Billy and Spencer shared has definitely sparked something in Spencer, and it doesn't look like its going away quietly.





	Maybe its not a conundrum.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm wine drunk atm. Just letting yall know. I wrote this god knows how long ago but felt like posting it so enjoy. Might write more, might not. Let me know. xoxo gossip girl. Did I mention wine is dope?

Spencer couldn't breathe. Every time he inhaled all he got was thick, hot air, that clogged his airways and lungs and then was heaved out before it could be of any use. The haze of sex and sweat was blurring his vision and pressing him further back into the sheets that were sticking to his bare skin and moving with him as he writhed and shook. His skin was hotter than he could ever remember it being and yet every inch was aching for the searing heat of calloused palms smoothing across it. His blood was boiling, sweat rolling from his temples and dripping across his neck as he threw his head back into the saturated pillow behind him in a soundless moan. His hips ached in more ways than one, legs pulled apart and pressed down by blistering palms on his thighs, holding him open and shaking. 

Billy grinned and chuckled, rolling his hips, again and again, It was a dirty sinuous swivel backward that finished with a firm upward snap. Every hitch and move of his cock split Spencer open further, his own hips bucking up of their own accord to meet the delicious friction sparking white-hot against his core. His hands were cramping from how hard they were driven into the pillow, body trembling all over as Billy continued to thrust smoothly into the strung-out body beneath him. Spencer honestly felt like he was choking, heart hammering so hard and so fast against his ribs he was sure it was only a matter of time before they all splintered. 

Billy thrust harder and quicker, still holding his thighs down with blistering hands. 

“Like this babe?” He purred, leaning down over him so spencer could see the sweat dripping from his neck and rolling down his chest. 

The lines of muscle and definition that were undulating with each thrust were slowly pouring molten lava right into Spencer’s core. He whimpered and nodded feverishly, tossing his head to the side as Billy changed the angle slightly and managed to graze something that sent a pulsing spark straight down to his belly. 

Billy leaned back again, hoisting Spencer’s leg up onto his shoulder, calf hooked over the sweat-slicked skin of his shoulder. The change forced a rasped hollow gasp from the bottom of Spencer’s lungs as he felt Billy slide somehow impossibly deeper. Billy’s eyes were blown wide, dark and predatory as his lips coiled into a dangerous smirk. Spencer whimpered and bit down hard on his lip, eyes fighting between trying to absorb every last detail of the moment or falling into the heat and slick of the sensation. 

“Hold on,” Billy growled, hand tightening on his calf as he leaned down and began thrusting sharply, Spencer’s leg complaining at the angle. That was gone almost instantly though as it was lost under the sea of sensation flooding him. The air was too hot to breathe, each desperately inhaled whine drying out his throat as Billy forced louder and louder sounds out of him. 

The hand on his thigh squeezed tightly and he jerked in response, shaking the rhythm he had found to push back into the deep, punishing thrusts. “God Spence, you look so fucking good.” Spencer could barely understand the words at this point, body coiling tighter and tighter, whimpers leaving him with every bone jarring connection between them. Billy hummed low in his throat, voice thick and dark as he spoke. “Fuck, you could come just from this. You’re so good, baby.”

Spencer realized he was mouthing fiercely, half of the word “please’ getting out each time before it was cut off by another thrust. Please, what? God, he didn’t know. He wanted the tension drawing him taught like a bow to snap; for it to never leave. He wanted Billy deeper and harder. He cried out as he ran Billy’s nails along the inside of his thighs. 

It was so close he could taste it in the back of his throat, eyes closed so tight it was like there were lights flickering as he let out broken moans with each jarring connection. He could hear Billy’s rhythmic panting as he whined long and low as the finish crested on the horizon-

And then he sat bolt upright in bed, body drenched in sweat and heart hammering hard enough to threaten splintering his ribs. The room was pitch black around him and all he could hear was the roaring of the blood in his ears as he tried to even begin to understand where he was and what had happened. 

His eyes adjusted quickly, using the light coming from behind the curtains and the many blinking monitor lights to pick out the detail in his room. 

His room. 

His normal, cooled by night air bedroom, where he had been, up until a moment ago, obviously asleep. 

He cast a quick look sideways and saw Billy where he normally slept, floating right beside Spencer’s bed, curled up under a blanket and head buried in a pillow. Everything checked out there too.

Spencer huffed in a deep breath and scrubbed his face quickly with his hands, feeling them skate over the sweat on his brow as he tried to scrub the fog of sleep out of his brain. 

It happened again. 

He groaned and buried his head in his hands, eyes closed to avoid looking down at the bulge barely just making itself known through the duvet. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it had been the first time, but it wasn’t the first time it had happened. Not even the second or third. It had actually been about the third when he had stopped keeping count, not wanting to have to fully face the repercussions of what more repeats then that would mean. 

In a big way, it was all Billy’s fault anyway, he was the one who kissed him and started this whole thing. Hell, Spencer hadn’t even been sure if he was even interested in guys before the kiss, and now he was waking up with his dick straining his pajama pants over the idea of being fucked in the ass by his best friend. 

He shifted tensely under the blanket, casting a look over at the ghost to ensure he was still asleep. Billy had always been able to sleep through anything, and back in the days when he had slept up by the ceiling, it had been such a pain in the ass because it was a mission and a half to try and wake him. Now it was probably a blessing. He was still sound asleep, curled up on empty air with a pillow jammed under his head and a blanket hitting the imaginary edges of his non-existent bed. 

Somehow even in sleep, the ghost was as expressive as ever, face not simply lax in rest, but subtly pulled into a perfect picture of relaxation and contentment. Lips slightly parted and eyes downturned as he lashes fanned out over the swell of his cheek. Spencer felt the urge to reach out and lightly brush the stray hairs back from his forehead but reflexively clenched his hands into fists instead. No one has business being as damned pretty as Billy Joe Cobra managed to effortlessly be. 

He shifted again and felt his leg jerk instinctively as his dick rubbed against his pajama bottoms again. Somehow it felt like a breach of trust to be sitting there with a hard-on next to Billy, (whether he was the cause of it or not) while he was asleep, so spencer flung his covers off and padded uncomfortably to the bathroom. 

The door shut quietly and he snapped the light on, only to stumble back with a hiss as the bright white light burned his eyes. He shielded his eyes and squinted, making out the shape of the sink and staggering over to twist the cold tap around to full. 

His reflection looked awful, eyes surrounded by purpling bags and hair almost teased from the tossing and turning. The harsh lighting did nothing for his skin tone either, completely washing him out until his skin was sallow and pallid. Idly he pulled his bottom eyelids down, clawing at his face, and let out a long groan before splashing the cold water on his face with quick scooping motions. 

The freezing water certainly woke him up more, jerking him out of the half-dazed stupor he had fallen back into as it hit his face. Spencer gasped soundlessly at the prickling sensation across his face and gripped down on the sides of the sink as hard as his wet hands would allow, shaking his head back and forth to try and dislodge the icy water droplets collecting on the tip of his nose. 

Every part of his skin was shivering, from his hairline to his toes and as he opened his eyes to watch the water drip from the tip of his nose to break against the white porcelain he couldn’t help but see the erection straining the front of his Jason hockey mask pajama pants. 

Why hadn’t he checked the time? The sky outside was still dark, the streetlights, even though illuminated, doing precious little. It was probably too early to take a shower, but it would have been nice to at least have that conformation. He reached out and twisted the tap off, leaving only dripping and heavy breathing in the silence. 

Spencer closed his eyes and sighed miserably. He sure as hell wasn’t going back to bed like this, that was the very first thing. Too early to take a cold shower and as inviting as the idea of trying to curl up in the sink was he chalked that one up to his still sleep-addled mind. 

Couldn’t chalk the last thing up to that though. Spender gripped the sink tighter and hunched over, eyes scrunched up as he tried to focus on literally anything other than his penis. Unfortunately, he was a teenage boy, and like all the disastrous sex-ed lessons that had ended in near-riots had taught him, teenage boys fucking sucked. 

Seriously you say the word penis a few times and suddenly Kleet is throwing a desk out of the second-story window. 

He frowned and let out a shaking breath. It felt like he was slowly being dragged into two parts, the first vehemently denying the entire situation, but slowly being drowned out in the way his blood was racing and the deep-set knowledge he was going to give in anyway. The front of his shirt was wet with the stray water from before, although it now felt more like sweat. 

He wasn’t going to do it, he didn’t have too. But as one of his hands left its death grip on the sink and he hunched over further he knew it was over. Spencer bit his lip and pressed his hand tightly against his abdomen, the low burn of anticipation sparking inside his gut. 

This was fine. 

As long as he didn’t think about Billy it was fine. 

The very idea of crossing that sort of line while conscious was making his skin crawl, but even as he slipped the tips of his fingers down onto his pajama pants all his mind could summon was the blistering heat of the kiss they had shared and the blurry half-remembered remnants of his dream. 

His fingers were hot on his skin and he let out a soft breath as he dragged his nails across the bare skin. He shivered at the light sensation. 

He needed to think of something. Anything. 

But god it was harder than he thought. Spencer furrowed his brow and let his nails scrape teasingly at the skin as he struggled to find anything to occupy his sexed-up brain while he took care of this problem. It was hard to focus, and the only thing his mind could come up with was Billy. Just Billy Billy Billy. ‘oh? You don’t want to think about Billy? How about Billy but in a different outfit? No?’ Spencer let his fingertips drop lower to the root of his very needy dick and wanted to let out a grunt of frustration. Why was he so pathetic? Seriously, one kiss and here he was unable to even think of a single other person, living, dead or fucking imaginary to jack it too. 

He huffed out a breath and bit his lip, closing his eyes in an attempt to focus even as his fingers inched slightly further down his dick. Fuck it, surely there was someone in those shitty teen bait rom-coms his sister always watched in the living room that would work. His hand slipped further down his dick and the pressure and need seemed to spark his brain into gear. There was that one guy in that weird time-traveling-twin-swap movie? He was pretty good looking, at least he thought from the small amount he had taken in between his English homework. Tall, muscled, dark hair and eyes and expressive face. What was his name again?

His hand slipped down to the tip of his dick and suddenly the guy's name didn’t matter. What did matter was smearing the pre-come from his tip down the length so he could get it over his palm. But it wasn’t his palm anymore. It was soccer-playing what’s-his-face and Spencer was a medieval princess flung into the trials of high school in the modern-day or something like that. Specifics didn’t matter, just the tight heat of a hand stroking him root to tip in languid pulls as his free hand clenched against the still wet rim of the sink. 

He leaned forward slightly, bracing himself harder on the sink as he spread his legs just a tad further apart. Spencer was panting softly now, still only using lazy motions to pleasure himself. What’s-his-face was pressed against his back, one arm around his waist to keep him pulled against him as he jerked Spencer off. He was breathing into his ear and Spencer could feel the locks of curly dark hair tickling his neck as he picked up the pace. 

It was enough to make him cant his head back with a light gasp, and the soccer player let out a raspy laugh and squeezed the base of his dick in retribution before resuming the quick slide and flick of his wrist as he worked Spencer over with practiced efficiency. Spencer squirmed in the hold, breathing coming heavier as the heat continued to pool low in his gut, muscles quivering under the skin as he impatiently tried to hurtle towards the finish. It wouldn’t take much, he was ready before this had even begun, body so keyed up to the touch of a hand. Soccer guy just nipped gingerly at his ear and curled his palm over the head of Spencer’s dick, catching a little more pre-come to lube up the quick slide of his hand. Spencer let out a groan, body twitching once in a full-body spasm and the pace sped up again in response.

Spencer jolted out of his fantasy slightly, eyes cracking open to the white of the bathroom even as he continued to jerk himself off under his pajama bottoms. He had to be quieter than that, the last thing he needed right now was for Billy to wake up because of a sound he had heard. And god knows the ghost he would come an investigate it too, finding him like this, bent over the sink and desperately jerking off in the middle of the night.

Spencer’s eyes closed again and he bit his lip to stifle another sound as his arousal spiked. What would Billy even do if he saw this? Probably try and laugh it off. Although knowing the ghost he could try and do something weird. Something like draping himself over Spencer’s back, winding an arm around his waist and nuzzling his neck the same way he sometimes did with to the top of his head. He might even sneak his hand down under the waistband of the pajamas and knock Spencer’s own hand away from his dick, taking over with relaxed ease as he jerked him off instead. “I can’t believe you didn’t come to me for help Spence.” Billy would whisper playfully. Spencer let out a choked whimper, bucking his hips back into the fist around him. “I might need you to help me after though.” And Spencer could feel it, Billy’s own dick pressing against his clothed backside as the ghost rocked his hips forward once.

That was as far as at got before Spencer felt the bowstring drawn tight across his torso snap and his grip on the sink slipped and skittered as he came. His knees weakened and he tottered momentarily as his vision burst into white behind clenched eyelids as he took the orgasm like a punch to the gut. It was sudden and ripping, and the moment he came back down to his own head he was slipping to the ground, hunched forward with one hand still reaching up above him to grip the sink like a lifeline. 

He was panting desperately, trying to regain the lost air as he kept his eyes tightly squeezed shut. He hadn’t just done that. Surely there was no way he had just come all over his own hand to the thought of Billy. Surely not, he wasn’t that pathetic. 

Slowly his eyes opened, as a lead weight started to form somewhere in his stomach. He carefully pulled his hand out of his pajamas and stared in distant, abject disgust at the come on his fingers. His dick was softening, content in the aftermath as his pants started to soak up the remaining fluid. 

How did shit like this even happen? Spencer sighed and closed his eyes again, leaning forward until his forehead was pressed against the cabinet doors. He’d just crossed the line. How the hell was he supposed to face Billy in the morning after this? Like it was one thing to subconsciously dream of his best friend like that, but it was another thing entirely to think of him consciously while jacking off. 

God, he was so screwed.


End file.
